Over the Rainbow
by WhippedByAnAngel
Summary: Cas and Dean attempts domesticity after Sam leaves the duo to live his own life but suddenly, the angel is being recalled back to heaven, leaving Dean with a promise of return . How will Dean take this? DeanxCas DESTIEL. SLASH. Read at your own risk.


**AN: **Hi hi hi. Another oneshot! :) You just know that you wouldn't get peace until you write down some story that's been stuck in your head for some time. This always happen to me. I wonder why my stories always feel heavy? Or it just for me? Wotcha think, guys?

Enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Not mine. Never was.

* * *

**_Over the Rainbow_**

* * *

"Dean."

A low gravelly voice snapped his attention away from the computer screen where he was trying to fish the history of the old abandoned school they chanced upon when they decided to stay in Maine, attempting domesticity. Dean's face lit up as he greeted the angel—his angel—with a smile.

"Hiya, Cas. How's the groceries?" He asked, eyeing the big, brown bag Castiel was holding with both his arms. He wondered if the angel forgot his pie.

"I bought pie."

"Hey!" Dean snapped though he was smiling. "What makes you think that's all I care about, huh?"

The angel only smiled back and placed the paper bag on the kitchen counter. "I believe I have everything you wished for me to buy."

"You make it sound like you're my servant or something." Dean grumbled as he stood up from his seat and wrapped his arms around the angel from behind. "Mmm, I missed you."

Castiel's face scrunched up in a confused frown. "But we have only been apart for approximately 33 minutes and 20 seconds."

Dean tipped the back of his head and smiled widely. "Really? You call that approximately?" The space his movement created allowed the angel to face him.

"Perhaps I have missed you as well." Castiel conceded, his blue eyes staring into his lover's green ones.

"That you did." Dean laughed as he disentangled himself from his lover. He pressed a kiss on the other man's lips but pulled back when Cas wasn't responding.

"Cas?" He looked at the angel who had gone rigid and was sporting a look of deep concentration.

"I have to go." The angel said it with an urgency that scared him.

"You just got here." Dean arched his left eyebrow. "You did forget the pie, didn't you!" He attempted to joke, not liking the way Castiel stared past him.

"I have to go." The angel repeated.

Dean held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay. Mind telling me first what the deal is?"

"Our Father is back."

Dean's eyes widened in shock. "Our—your—God…God is back?"

"Yes, Dean, I have to go now, He is calling us back." Dean could feel the blood from his face draining. What did Castiel mean by God calling them _back_? Was Castiel _leaving_ him?

"I will be back." The angel placed a reassuring hand on his forearm where his hand print was hidden by the flannel. "Wait for me."

The hunter's head was spinning and he suddenly felt the need to puke. So Cas was indeed leaving him—but he promised to be back, right? It couldn't take that long—maybe just a few hours or so—days—weeks at max. But he will be back, he said so himself. So why did he suddenly feel like he was being _abandoned_?

All over again.

"Will you be okay?" The angel asked him.

Before he could reply, he had already heard the familiar flutter of wings.

"Yeah, I'll be okay." He said emptily to the equally empty room.

…

"He gets really violent if you stop before the salt line—we _always_ have to warn our interns to ignore the line and just walk past it as fast as they could."

Sam nodded absently as he followed the doctor that was leading him. His eyes wandered to the people in the hallway they were passing through. Some were on wheelchairs, they eyes dead and blank, their mouth slack open, saliva flowing freely from the orifice. Another was repeatedly banging her head on the wall, not hard enough to actually damage her, but it was disturbing nonetheless. She was muttering a string of incoherent words that Sam couldn't catch even when they passed by her.

"But after that he gets amiable enough. Actually takes his medicine and you know how much we appreciate that bit," She sighed dramatically to emphasize her point, "…people here just don't listen that much. But him, he listens."

They turned right into another hallway which seemed to be much quiet than the first one, and only one patient was loitering outside the rooms. He only stared at them as they passed by and turned into another corridor which was very much deserted—only the sound of her heels could be heard.

Sam even felt more uncomfortable.

The doctor stopped and then there was deafening silence. For a moment, Sam felt the salt gun tucked safely on his hidden jeans pocket but let go when she faced him, her appearance perfectly normal.

"I want you to understand that he—he can recover from this. He is not fully insane, unlike those patients we've passed by. What he is experiencing is a psychological trauma—one brought about, if I can guess it correctly, by his previous line of work."

Sam swallowed.

"He doesn't say much about himself, and the only times he talks is when he's having a tantrum or a very good day—that's how we found out about his name and _you_. We believe, with the right sessions and support, he can get past this and be… _well_ again."

Sam noticed how she avoided saying the word normal and suddenly felt grateful towards her.

"And you must also know that _he checked himself in._"

Sam found it surprising that he wasn't surprised to know this. He merely nodded and followed the doctor once more as she turned her back and stopped in front of a plain white door like the rest of the others they passed.

She flashed her id on the scanner and a faint beep was heard. She clutched the door handle and turned it. Sam exhaled deeply and then stepped behind her as she opened the door, revealing a lone figure sitting beside the windowsill who had an unfinished quilt on his lap.

"Dean."

Said man turned to him and he was shocked by his brother's drastic change in appearance. Dean's eyes were dull, unlike the vivid green he always remembered when he thought of his brother. There were rings under his eyes and his face was gaunt. Sam could see he wasn't eating well. The bulk Dean had always been carrying was no longer there.

Suddenly he was being pushed from behind and stumbled inside, his face almost meeting the floor if it weren't for his fast reflexes.

He turned back questioningly to the doctor who looked at him, unimpressed.

"Salt line." Was what she only said as she stepped beside him.

"Could've just told me." Sam muttered under his breath as he turned his attention back to his brother.

Dean was studying him, his jaw relaxed since they passed his test, and Sam could see recognition in his brother's eyes.

"Dean." He tried again.

His brother only continued to stare at him and then, as if he had become rather bored of doing so, turned his head back to the window.

Sam was about to go over his side but a hand stopped him.

He looked back at the doctor.

"It's a start."

…

Sam came back to visit Dean a week after. He and Amelia temporarily moved into an apartment near the asylum and it took them a week to fix everything since they were flying from Vancouver to South Dakota.

"How long have you known, Sam?" Amelia asked him one night when they were packing some of their essential stuffs into the boxes.

"Known what?" Sam turned to her, confused.

"That Dean is confined in a mental institution? How long have you known this?"

"What do you mean how long? I was only contacted a week ago, and I flew to Sioux to confirm it two days ago, and then flew back yesterday, right? Didn't I tell you the flight I was taking was to Sioux?"

"O-oh!" Amelia realized her mistake. "I thought you've known for awhile since it's you were already able to secure a leave from your work…I just thought you—"

"I quitted."

"—planned everything beforeha—huh? You quitted? _Your work?_"

"Yeah." Sam confirmed in a quiet voice.

"But why, Sam? Didn't you tell me it's your dream job?" Amelia frowned. What could be more important than his career?

"It's Dean."

Really, Amelia should have known better.

…

"Is that a radio player?"

Sam shrugged as he stared down at the device on his hands. "I read that music helps."

"It does." The doctor nodded. "Why don't you take it to him?"

Sam shook his head. "He doesn't even talk to me yet, let alone trust something that came from me."

"So you want me to take this to him?"

"If it's not much of a trouble..." Sam smiled sheepishly but the doctor could see longing and exhaustion in his eyes.

"No, Sam, it isn't." She smiled back genuinely.

…

Sam waited patiently and every day he visited Dean, talking to him about anything—his day, the arguments he and Amelia were having—his pet dog being dragged into their problems… He was not even sure if the other was listening, he just kept on talking, and every time Dean would stare at him for a minute or less, and then go back to working on the quilt on his lap for the remainder of Sam's visit.

The doctor told him it might take a month.

But it didn't.

It didn't take a month for Dean to grow back accustomed to Sam's presence. No. It took _half a year_, which meant Sam was kept on his vigil for 6 months until Dean finally asked for him from the doctor.

So here they were, face to face, the finished quilt now folded neatly on Dean's bed, with the radio player on top of it, and Sam wondered for a moment if Dean's refusal to talk to him had a connection to that piece of fabric but it was left on the back of his mind when Dean said his name.

"Sammy." Dean had whispered in a hoarse voice, born from misuse. Tears sprung from Sam's eyes at the sound of his old nickname and he blinked rapidly for a few seconds to dispel the tears and soothe his feelings.

He inhaled deeply before asking that one question that had been bugging him from the start.

"Where's Cas?" Where's the motherfucker who you said was going to be with you? He wanted to add, because he could still remember that call he made to Dean when he finally found Amelia again. He could hear his brother's voice crystal clear on his mind when he checked up on Dean.

_"Cas… Cas and I are still hunting, yeah, but not as extensive as before, just hunt if something weird pops up around the area. You don't have to worry, Sam, ganking these SOBs is cakewalk with an angel perched on your shoulder."_

_"So don't go letting your panties twist in a bunch, Cas will take care of me." _

"He went home."

Sam tipped the back of his head. "He went home? To heaven?" Then suddenly, he looked at the door that was ajar, checking if someone was eavesdropping in their conversation. He would be locked with Dean within 10 seconds if the doctor had heard them talking about these kind of stuff.

Dean nodded.

"He left you?" He whispered in disbelief. Cas…loved Dean. That was proven a long time ago, even before his idiot of a brother realized his own feelings and succumbed to them. Sam could see how the angel had looked at Dean, his eyes searching and passionate. It was startling to know that after everything Dean and Cas had been through, the latter would choose his home over the former.

_Angels are warriors of God_, Sam heard from the back of his mind.

Dean snarled. "He'll come back."

"When?" Sam found himself countering in heat. Trust Dean to still cling onto someone who had already abandoned him. A feeling of guilt settled on the pit of his stomach as he realized that his older brother had the same issue with him before, when he ran away from home to go to college.

Dean shrugged, refusing to say anything further.

Sam got the hint and decided to let it go. He turned to another direction, another question that had been bugging him also.

"What happened, Dean?"

"You're one ugly bitch, Lilith."

Sam was taken aback but not because of his brother's harsh language. "Lilith—" He said incredulously. "As in the demon? I look like some young girl to—"

"Ruby was ugly too. But you're nothing compared to Alastair."

Then suddenly it dawned on Sam.

Dean was seeing demons.

He was back in hell.

…

The doctor told Sam that 2 years had passed since Dean admitted himself in the asylum which meant that after five months or less when Sam left to live his own life, Dean started to go crazy. He couldn't figure out when the angel left his brother, but surely it was after that that Dean started having his hallucinations believing he was in hell back again.

And this time, there was no angel of the Lord to raise him from his own perdition.

But Dean had known he was only having hallucinations—hence, admitting himself in this institution. So there was hope, as the doctor told him. It made him hope.

Dean would be fine someday.

…

The doctor finally allowed Sam to take Dean home to his two-bedroom apartment. His brother was getting better and only sessions once a week where Dean would have to see his doctor again were needed for Sam to comply with so that he could permanently keep his older brother.

He opened the door to his empty apartment, Dean entering it first as he picked up his brother's luggage from the hospital. He placed them on the couch, his peripheral vision traitorously catching the brown envelope on the coffee table.

Inside were divorce papers.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean called from the top of the stairs.

"Yeah?" Sam answered distractedly, his eyes never leaving the bundle of sheets on his hand.

"You think we could shop for a larger bed? Cas isn't going to fit with me in there." Dean was now at the foot of the stairs, staring at his younger brother expectantly.

Sam turned to him, swallowing the self-pity that was threatening to addle his mind. "Yeah." He said tightly. "We could visit IKEA tomorrow."

…

It was a meadow. A meadow filled with tall grass on the edges and only the middle was trimmed—there lie some remains of what used to be a barn.

He fought his way to the middle, carefully picking a spot where no metal or chipped pieces from an absent roof were scattered and carefully laid the quilt on the patch of growing grass. He felt glad his doctor allowed him to take it with him.

He placed the basket Sam prepared for him on the quilt and took the oddly-placed radio out of it. It was kind of covered in crumbs because of the cheese and cucumber sandwich it was packed with inside the basket, but he didn't care.

Dean sat down comfortably and turned on the radio.

_Somewhere, over the rainbow,_

_Way up high._

_Fin_

* * *

**AN: **There we go, so what do you think? I hope it wasn't confusing? If it is kindly tell me so I could clear it up for you. At the end, it's safe to say that Dean kept on waiting for Cas who was, well, way up high.

Leave me reviews! :)


End file.
